Humble Pie and Sub-alpine Fajitas.
Glacier Peak, aptly named, but even more aptly nicknamed, the forgotten one. Forgotten, banished, denounced, whatever you want to call it, it's probably not inaccurate. She's out there.
The first time I saw GP was from Hidden Lake Lookout. You cannot deny how symmetrically beautiful, and aesthetically pleasing of a mountain she is, but you cannot truly appreciate and simultaneously despise this mountain for who she is until you have climbed it. It is an experience that is nearly indescribable, though I will attempt to do it justice here.
A three day climb with the Tacoma Mountaineers, we were ten strong, and ready for three days in the mountains together. Some had climbed Dakobed before, others had not, I was among those who had not and went into this climb painfully ignorant of what it was going to demand. It's long. Like you cannot imagine kind of long. Especially when you are with the Mountaineers. It's three days, fully loaded overnight packs, glacier gear, and probably your share of the summit evening pot luck meal (thanks a lot, Kimber). Since this trip, learning that mountain running is a thing that people do, I cannot say that I have any plans to return in a traditional style. It's just a dreadfully long way to haul a 24 kilo ruck.
Day I
The trail out of North Fork was in great condition. We left around 0800 and it was already warm out. Thankfully the beginning of the climb winds along the Sauk river which keeps temperatures down. There are a number of clear cuts where noticeable trail maintenance has been done, that are clearly in marshy sections of the trial, but coming through in July these patches were dry, just extremely humid. There are probably 3 - 4 of these sections that last one hundred paces each. By the time we had reached the switchbacks it was nearing 25°C and we were pouring with sweat, even in shorts and tanktops. Hauling that size loads in these temperatures was a blood boiling task. There's a good reason we saw hardly anybody on this climb.
The rest of the approach was dispatched with continued misery and pain, sweating ourselves silly, and fighting off a mixture of mosquitoes and biting flies. The mosquitoes were almost preferable to the black flies, because those bastards made you bleed. We stopped at the PTC junction at White Pass for a lunch break and got eaten alive by the areal swarms. Thankfully the trail was in excellent condition and we had no problems with access, just mostly environmental factors. Once we rounded the cirque from White Pass there were a handful of snow patches to cross on the trail that presented a bit of a challenge being as top heavy as we were, but poles and good footing did the trick.
We finally reached our BC in the basin below White Chuck Glacier, dropped our exhausted selves onto our packs and began to build camp. As painful of a day as that was, this was one of the most beautiful camps I have ever been to. The ridgeline behind camp gave us the first view of the mountain the entire day, and that sight somehow made the pain a little more dull, just enough to enjoy the beauty we were surrounded by. By this point we were getting late into the day so we ate and went to bed quickly, with 0100 alarms quickly on their way.
Day II
A moonlit, star-punctured sky drew us out of our tents as we quietly laced up for our summit day. Leaving food, camping gear, tents, bags, pads, unnecessary layers, and more behind, our pack weight was a welcomed change after a fully loaded approach day. We made quick work of the route through the night, which I will always prefer over climbing in broad, bleached daylight. As a personal note, when I do get around to making an ultralight solo attempt, I will most certainly start the evening before, run through the night, and aim for an early summit. Working through the night, the miles fly by with head down and knees high.
Once we reached the base of the Cool Glacier, the climb lead and mentored lead discussed roping up, but the conditions simply did not warrant it. The route was visible, the boot pack was good, so we just decided to motor and not bother with the ropes, a controversial decision as it would be later, but ultimately I believe was the right one. We arrived at the saddle between GP and DP, dropped packs, downed some water and calories, grabbed cameras, and began our slow saunter to the summit. It was on this last push that I got to take some of my still to date favorite shots ever, with (what seemed) the entirety of the white-capped cascades behind us, cheering us on as we made our final push.
As the rest of our team made their way to the true summit, we enjoyed the entire summit plateau to ourselves as our strong ten. What a joyous moment that was. There are two identifiable domes that comprise the summit area on Dakobed, and there was some discussion about which one was the true summit, but consulting Gaia, and locating the summit register on the west dome made it clear that this was indeed the true summit. We signed the register, took our photos, and then immediately the "only half way" reality set in. Thankfully we still had a day and a half ahead of us to complete the task, but still, the beauty and excitement were now behind us. Time to go to work.
I do not recall most of descent. I remember our team split up into two factions, essentially the four of us that wanted to hustle back to camp, and those who were comfortable with a more moderate pace, and I remember the heat. It was not quite heatstroke status, but darn near. The four of us kept a relatively up tempo pace as we clipped through the various sections of the trail back to camp, slipping and sliding a bit in the now sun-baked snow. That's about all I can recall of that afternoon. I have a tendency to shift into autopilot and just cruise. When it's time to go, it's time to go.
The next thing I recall is arriving back at camp, pealing off my sweat-soaked layers down to my skivvies, and collapsing into our tent. I slept for an hour or so before my tent mate made it back with the rest of the team, and everyone proceeded to nap the afternoon away. Most of us woke up with sunburns that we acquired through our tent walls, it was that hot, and that radiant out. We layered up in fresh clothes and began making the best dinner I've ever had outside (okay but really, thanks Kimber). The team had hauled fixings for fajita bowls - tortillas, beans, shredded chicken, cheese, avocado, peppers and onions, spanish rice and even limes. I had brought three liters of wine (grossly contributing to my overall pack weight), but boy was that a hit. There is nothing like a good meal with your team after a summit, be that a burger at a pub, or a full on texmex spread at base camp. Climbing and food brings folks together in a pretty cohesive way. We went to sleep with tired legs and happy stomachs, fully aware of the next day's demands quickly approaching.
Day III
We woke up leisurely and quietly, somewhere around 0600 and began breaking camp. After a short breakfast of leftovers and oatmeal, we had loaded our rucks and were on our way out, waving our final goodbyes to the forgotten mountain. Once over the ridge, dropping back down into White Pass, the views turn into rolling green hills, and single track dusty trail, for a seeming endless quantity of miles, but with the exception of Sloan Peak, the mountain views are sparse.
The snow patches prior to getting to the PCT/White Pass junction were quite punchy this time, they were well warmed and broke easily in the morning sun. We had to work through these carefully, trying to avoid twisted ankles and hyper-extended knees. Kimber did take one notable plunge through a snow patch, but other than that the team moved through without too much trouble. After arriving back at the top of the switchbacks we agreed to fan out at our own pace and meet back at the cars. Some stuck together, others motored back to the cars, knowing snacks and cold drinks were waiting. Again switching into autopilot, the rest of the descent was a bit of a blur, I do recall wishing for trail runners and a vest many times though.
Arriving back at the cars, just before 1200, the three of us in the lead dropped our rucks with a resounding "UGH", again pealed off sweaty layers, took a bath with wet wipes, and promptly broke into the calories and libations. The rest of the team was within an hour behind us, they trickled into the parking lot and joined us in the celebration circle.
I learned a lot personally on this trip. 1. Always get your pack fitted and tested before taking it out into the field. I took a brand new pack out on this climb and it nearly crushed me. 2. Even if the style of climbing is not your favorite, try to accept it as an area of growth and make the most of it. 3. Pushing hard has its rewards when done within the bounds of safety. 4. C2C is the way to go, nearly always.
If you have found this trip report and made it this far, congratulations, and thank you. I hope it was worth your time! As I write this, now over a year later, I can honestly say that I am looking forward to my Sophomore year with Dakobed, now that the pain and misery have since subsided. This time will certainly be in trail runners, a vest, and in the style I know best how to digest these beautiful experiences we hold so dear out in nature.
Cheers
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